Don't Speak
by there was only you
Summary: Sequel to I'm Yours. “In fact, I -” You break off, the words caught in your throat. “Doesn’t matter. Just, know we’re okay, Mitch. We’ll always be okay.”


Don't Speak

You watch her intently as she picks Nate up in her arms and kisses his forehead - his dark brown locks, hints of some sort of curls – brush her nose and she giggles as it itches and you smile involuntarily. She's so fascinating to you.

You try not to breathe as she looks up at you expectantly and beckons you towards her. Your hands shake as you take Nate into your hands and stare up at your namesake. His eyes like Shane's (and you're grateful to find no other resemblance), his nose like Mitchie's. He has that same cleft in his chin and that same wide-grin smile, sans teeth, of course. You grin this time and Mitchie smiles too and everything seems so perfect. But of course, these moments don't last long.

"Baby?"

_He_'s home and your heart quickens. Mitchie takes Nate back and you shudder from the sudden cold that whips at you as he is. You don't look up at your former best friend as he trundles in and kisses the girl you love. Your fists clench and he notices and smirks.

"I should go," you say, a tremor in your voice. He just makes you so _angry_.

"No, Natie -"

"Yeah. You should." His dark voice pierces at your heart and you close your eyes, fists so tight now you swear you've stopped the blood circulating in your hand.

"Bye, Mitchie," you say, voice limp. You don't catch eye-contact with him and trundle out the door, picking up your jacket on the way. You catch Mitchie's eye as you walk out, and she offers you a small smile.

Nothing's been the same since he kicked your rib in. Understandable, to say the least.

- - -

You catch up with her after school, and her eyes are blotchy and red.

"Shane." It's not an answer, and you say it like an expletive.

"Nate, don't," she pleads, looking up at you, mascara running down her cheek now. "He was drunk, he didn't mean to -"

"What?" you snap at her, eyes furious, voice growling. "What did he do?"

"H-he …" she trails off, unsure of whether to even tell you this and you can tell. "He h-hit -"

"I'm gonna fucking kill him," you bark, fists clenching hard like you had the other day and anger is overtaking your every emotion. "I'm going to fucking _kill him_."

She whimpers as she cries and you forget everything in that moment and hold her, your arms encircling hers, her head against your chest, tears wetting your shirt. But you don't care. All you care about is her. She's your everything.

"I love him, Nate. I don't want to let him go."

"He doesn't deserve you. You're everything to me and if he hurt you then -"

"Nate, please. Don't."

"But I l-"

"Nate."

This happens everyday.

_I love you._

Your unspoken words hang in the air and you choke on them, and turn away. Her hand caresses your face.

"Are you coming over today?"

"I don't think so."

But you always do.

- - -

Her head is on your lap and your playing with your hair as you watch the Titanic together. It's 'your' movie. She's sniffling already and you laugh and she hits you.

"Is Nate asleep?" you ask, her son's name coming out ever so slightly strangled. She looks up at you, bits her lip.

"Shoot, I should -"

"No, worries, I'll go," you smile at her and kiss her forehead before shifting her forehead off your lap and trundling out of the living room. The Torres house is cosy. Small, but very home-ish and nice. You walk through the corridor and up the stairs, pausing at Mitchie's room but continuing on to the spare room, now Nate's room. There he was. Sound asleep and you smile absently.

You close the door as you leave and tiptoe back the stairs and back into the living room. Her eyes are running heavier now and you laugh and she mock-glares at you.

"Jack died," she whispers and you feign shock.

"At least you have me!"

"You're no Leonardo di Caprio," she jibes, poking you.

"Oh, really?" you cock an eyebrow.

You get up and throw your arms either side of you and belt out in an exaggerated accent, "_I'm king of the world!_"

She giggles and gets up and you watch her as she stands in front of you and lifts your hands up together, re-enacting that same, lame 'flying scene'. She hums 'My Heart Goes On' and you breathe in the scent of her hair and enclose your hands around hers. She's still humming as she turns to face you and smiles, her bright, mega-watt grin but you just stare at her intently. This moment is too perfect, too intimate.

You kiss her. Gently. Your top lip brushes her lower and slowly you cup her face and close your eyes. She's kissing you back, you can feel it, but then she's pulling away and you cling to her but she turns her face.

"Nate," she says, crossing her arms, cheeks flushed. You pull away from her immediately and stare at the ground, ashamed.

"I'm sorry, I'm s-so – I mean, I didn't, I just -"

You run out of the house without finishing a relevant sentence. You don't stop running until you get home and even then you can't sleep.

- - -

She doesn't say hello to you the next morning, even though your locker is right next to hers. You had it moved.

She doesn't share notes with you in English, and Mr. Hyam keeps calling on your for answers. You suck at English.

She doesn't sit with you during Home Room, instead she gravitates towards Jason instead. You feel so lost without her.

It's at lunch when you gather the courage to talk to her. She's sitting by herself, her song notebook by her, a pen in her teeth, a measly salad smothered in blue cheese and a milk carton sitting neatly on a tray next to her. You sit down anxiously and she doesn't look up. 'Lost Between The Lines' is written neatly as the title of the song.

"Mitchie," you say. "I'm sorry for what happened yesterday, you know I've always …" You don't finish that sentence and move on. "It was stupid of me and I know you're with Shane and -"

"Shane and I broke up," she whispers, a tear dropping down on to the yellow paper and she writes another lyric, humming softly to herself.

You can't even be happy as you stare upon her distressed self and you put your head in your hands. "Why?"

"I told him."

You take in a breath. "Told him what?"

"That I didn't love him anymore," her voice is racked with pain.

"But you do," you mumble, gently but smothered in disappointment.

"I need to focus on my music, on my career," she ignores you and taps her pen against the paper. You close your eyes.

"Mitchie -"

"Forget it, Nate. I have."

Your heart breaks.

- - -

When you used to live next to Mitchie, there was an old oak tree in the back of her house, which branches stretched over to your side of the garden. When you were six and she was seven, your dad and hers knocked down the white picket fence that separates the gardens and built a tree-house up there. You went in there everyday and played Ninjas or ate marshmallows or those fancy chocolates that your mom always bought but never ate. When you got your first guitar you brought it up there and constructed a song for her before her very eyes. It was something like, 'Mitchie / Mitchie / The girl I'll never ditchie" but it was cute and the words are pinned up on her wall. You'd know when she was up there because she hang her favourite red jumper out of the window. Of course, when you turned twelve and got your first cell phone you texted each other and the house was used less often but you would always find her there when she was upset. You'd hold her and reminisce about playing 'House' up there, when she was the modest wife and you were the city working husband. You grew apart when you moved house. It was like she was a different person when you entered high school. When Shane started liking her it was like he was talking about a different person and she was just neutral. Sure, you'd say 'hey' to her and hold open the door, but it was like you'd never met. And then she took Shane up there and you'd never gone since, but now you find yourself gravitating towards the two old houses, which were never re-sold, are now moulding and breaking away. You cringe at the sight of the once bright blue walls and the now grey picket fence. And there it is.

The tree-house.

You climb up the ladder and poke your head through the hole in the top and grin. It still has that musty smell that you'd grown to love and the same uneven window. You finger the engraved words which you'd scratched in with her and laugh at the old, 'Mitchie loves Natie' phrases that you'd clawed in there just to annoy her.

You sit on the old wood panel that creaks and look at the pin where Mitchie would hang her red jumper and call for you whenever she needed you.

But now you're not even sure if you're friends.

A twig snaps underneath the house and your heart quickens. You know this area is deserted, so why would anyone want to come up here? Oh, shit.

You wait in the corner, trying to make yourself invisible. You've always had an incessant fear of things like this happening to you. Getting killed by a murderer in your old tree-house. Nice.

"Nate?" the voice was shocked and very .. un-murderer-ish.

"Oh, Mitchie," you blink at her, trying not to be blinded by the UV rays flashing in your face. She notices your discomfort at her torch and turns it off, with a sheepish grin.

"I'm sorry, I should go."

"No, stay," you say, awkwardly. "I didn't know you still came here."

"Yeah. I do. A lot, actually. Recently I've been coming here every night, almost," she admits, looking down, fingering some of the engravings.

"It was better when we were kids."

"Yeah."

She crawls over to you and wraps her arms around your waist and you just sit there. You know you're forgiven.

- - -

"Nate?"

"Yeah."

"I love you. Don't forget that."

"I won't."

_I love you too._

- - -

It's been a week since they broke up.

"Me and Shane are back together," she breathes and you attempt to smile.

You have to put up with this. For her sake.

- - -

Your shoulders accidentally bump and he has you against the locker, hand at your throat.

"Why the fuck did you do that, you fucking idiot!" he yells at you, eyes twitching, hand tightening.

"G-get off me!" you yell, trying to kick out at him. A crowd is gathering now.

"G-get off me!" he mimics you in a high-pitched voice, a few of his friends laugh nervously, but the others are staring wearily.

"Shane!"

You try to see Mitchie over the crowd but you can't see anything as you gasp for air.

"Shane, let him go," her voice is stern and upset. His grip slackens a little bit, but even that has you gasping. "Shane!"

He drops you and you clutch at your throat, and a swarm of girls bee-line for you, making sure you're okay. You look over at Mitchie but she's talking to Shane, looks at you, then walks away. You try to get rid of the girls that are hanging on to your arm and asking if you're okay and race after her, panting by the time you catch up with her, still oxygen-deprieved.

"Mitchie!"

She turns, tears running down her cheeks. Crying is all you ever seem to do anymore.

"Nate, I'm so sorry, Shane – I don't even know why he – I just – don't hate me, please don't hate me -"

"How could I ever hate you?" You walk forward and take her face in your hands and brush away the tears. The words are on your tongue. You're so ready. You're so, _so_ ready. "In fact, I -"

You break off, the words caught in your throat. "Doesn't matter. Just, know we're okay, Mitch. We'll always be okay."

- - -

You try not to watch as they make up again. He kisses her roughly, his hand move down to her waist and hers are against his chest, pushing him away ever so slightly. You tense.

She could have so much better. She could have _you_. If only you weren't so damn stupid.

- - -

So you're running again. You chest heaves and your heart is pumping so fast you think it might just burst out of your chest. You're near her house and you're ringing the doorbell in the space of ten short seconds. They're too long.

You run to her room and she looks up at you, alarmed at your sweaty and short-breathed figure.

"Mitchie, I -"

She stands up, raises a questioning eyebrow. Your heart beats faster.

"I …"

"Did you mean what you said?" she whispers, looking at the floor.

"When?"

"Before. When … you said we were gonna be alright." She takes your hand.

"We are," you stammer, unsure of where this is going.

"And I'm eighteen now, I'm legal. I can do whatever, right?"

You nod slowly. "I guess."

She smiles breathlessly. "Shane asked me to marry him."

You stare, open-mouthed. "Oh," you say at last, after a long minute of silence. Her eyes are filled with tears, but if they're happy or sad, you can't tell.

"We're gonna be alright, Nate, aren't we?" she says and you have to nod, though you think you might pass out.

She kisses you gently, much like when you had kissed her before, but it felt too brother-sisterly, too chaste. Purely platonic. Purely.

You half-smile. "Congratulations."

_Why can't you love __**me**__?_

- - -

Woo! Finished. Yes, this is a sequel to 'I'm Yours', obviously. I know I said in the other part that they didn't know each other before, but I just really wanted to include that little treehouse bit. It was too cute to ignore. Anyway. I want to continue this as a chapter story which means I'll continue it on in this story, not the other one. Reading the other one is necessary if you want to actually know what's going on. I'll probably elaborate on those events too. Thanks for reading guys, I love you all xD


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